


Fields of Gold

by cybox



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Affairs, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybox/pseuds/cybox
Summary: Enter a parallel world where Bruce’s parents never died and Superman doesn’t exist. Story inspired in part by Eva Cassidy’s rendition of Fields of Gold, hence the title.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Kudos: 15





	Fields of Gold

Bruce waded his fingers through the field of barley, the feathered tips tickling the palm of his hand as he walked westward toward the setting sun. He closed his eyes, basking under the golden light as a warm wind moved among the fields. 

He had bought the farm on a whim. Bruce had been surfing the Internet one late night, doing some light reading on his competitor Lex Luthor’s background in Smallville, when he saw a listing for a quaint farm and bought it without so much of a thought. But he found himself spending more time than he’d ever thought he would in Kansas than in Gotham. There was something calming, even nostalgic about a place he had never visited before. 

With his father around as the head of Wayne company, Bruce was acting chairman of the company, but Lucius really did most of the work. His life was and always had been perfect: from birth, everything had been handed to him on a silver platter, and there was nothing he could want. Yet Bruce couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t enough, that there was something he was still lacking, something he couldn’t quite place or voice, a void that felt partially filled on that little farm. 

“I thought I’d find you here.” 

Bruce turned at the familiar voice to be greeted by Oliver Queen, looking as suave as ever with his dazzling smile, impeccably suited in emerald-green, and his blond hair styled back. Bruce mustered up a smile. 

“Ollie,” Bruce acknowledged him with a nod. Oliver walked to Bruce and took him by his hands and gave him a chaste kiss, which Bruce accepted. 

For the past five years, Bruce had been in a steady relationship with Oliver Queen. Being with Oliver made sense. They both ran in the same circle, and Ollie was sweet, funny, and caring. Yet on their last visit to Paris, when Ollie had gotten down on one knee and proposed, Bruce hesitated. It was something about the diamond he was presented with, a beautiful stone with an unfathomable blue color, that reminded him of the hollow loneliness he felt in the core of his being. 

Bruce knew he should have said yes, there was no reason to say otherwise. But when he opened his mouth, he found that he could not make a sound. 

Ollie was good to him – too good in fact, and told him that he would wait until he was ready. But even Bruce knew he couldn’t hold off forever. He had to accept. 

“I can tell why you like it here.” Oliver said, looking all around him at the fields of gold. “It’s good to get out of the city once in a while.” 

“Mm,” Bruce responded noncommittally. 

“I’m actually on my way to Gotham City. I can’t stay for long, but I wanted to drop by and check on you.” Oliver hesitated before continuing. “I was hoping you’d come with me. Your mother’s worried – she hasn’t seen you in weeks.” 

Bruce gazed across the Kansas sky, noting the dark clouds looming in the horizon. 

“Tomorrow,” he said finally. “I’m going back tomorrow, after I sell the place.” Bruce took a deep breath as he faced Oliver, looking at him squarely in the eye to show his resolve. “Ollie, if you’ll still have me...I think I'm ready.” 

Oliver responded with a kiss so passionate it threw Bruce off guard. When he finally released him, his blue eyes were shining, and he looked so happy that Bruce felt guilty for not responding in the affirmative sooner. “But of course!” He then pulled Bruce into a tight embrace, almost suffocating him. “I love you so much,” he murmured into his ear. 

Bruce swallowed. “You’d better hurry. A storm’s coming from the west, and you won’t be able to fly if you stay much longer.” 

Oliver grinned, Bruce’s ever practicality being one of the things he loved about him. He kissed him goodbye and left to board his private plane while Bruce watched from a distance. 

Bruce sighed. He was loathe to sell the place, but in his heart knew it was keeping him from moving forward with his life. The low rumbles of the sky alerted him to the coming storm, and Bruce started to make his way back to the house. 

Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of red and blue caught his attention, and he frowned, suddenly aware of the feeling that somebody was watching him. The last thing he needed was for the paparazzi to get the latest scoop on his private affairs. His eyes scanned his surroundings and caught the sight of a red cloak turning around the corner of the barn. 

He frowned and stealthily chased after the figure. He spotted a man in a blue suit retreating (why did he think he had seen a red cloak?) and when he was within distance, jumped to tackle the trespasser. 

He thought he was taking the stranger by surprise, so he was caught off guard when the man turned at the last second. Bruce ended up toppling on top of the man and landed face-to-face on him. When he regained his senses, his breath almost caught as he stared at his face, his hands feeling the hardness of the sculpted body under him that made him feel something he hadn’t felt in, well, ever. 

The man stared at Bruce through round glasses, his expression both reverent and fearful at the same time. 

Bruce managed to find his voice. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” he demanded, and the man seemed to snap out of his reverie. 

“I’m sorry! My name is Clark Kent. I used to live here. I was just passing by. I was feeling sentimental.” 

Kent – the name sounded familiar. 

“Ma and Pa said that they sold the farm, but the house looked empty, so I thought it would be okay to look around. I’m sorry for trespassing,” he said, and the man indeed sounded apologetic. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, Mr. Wayne.” 

Bruce nodded slowly, and got off of him, his paranoia satiated for the time being. “That’s okay.” He motioned towards the house. “Would you like to come inside?” 

Clark hesitated, and it looked like he was going to refuse. As if on cue, the heavens intervened, and the skies let loose a heavy rain. Bruce grabbed Clark’s hand. 

“Come on!” he yelled above the sound of the rain. 

The barn was only a few hundred yards away from the main house, but the rain was such that by the time Bruce and Clark reached the house, the two were thoroughly drenched. 

The duo stared at each other, and the nervous energy Bruce was feeling dispelled into nervous laughter. 

“We look ridiculous, don’t we,” Bruce said. “I’ll see if I can find something for you to change into.” 

Bruce went upstairs and quickly changed into dry clothes before rummaging around in the bedroom closet, and returned with a towel and a pair of sweatpants. 

“I’m not sure how it’ll fit,” Bruce started to say and stopped short. 

Clark had already stripped off his suit jacket and shirt and was presently standing half-nude, laying out his clothes to dry in front of the fireplace that he had started. 

Bruce realized he was staring but couldn’t help himself. He had felt them earlier when he was on top of Clark, but now he was seeing the muscles firsthand, and it was a glorious sight. 

Bruce realized belatedly that Clark was staring right back at him, and he flushed, quickly turning away. His heart raced stupidly as Clark approached him. 

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne,” he said, accepting the clothing in his hands, and dabbed his face with the towel, although it looked like he had already dried off. 

“Bruce,” he said suddenly, feeling his throat tighten as he said his own name. “Call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne is my father.” 

Clark nodded slowly, and then let out a smile. “Thank you, Bruce,” he said, and Bruce reveled at the sound of his name on his tongue. 

Bruce forced himself to look away as Clark started to unbuckle his pants, and only turned back when he heard distorted sounds coming from the fireplace. Clark was fiddling with the dials on the radio sitting on the mantel, tuning through periods of static before a slow jazz song filled the empty space of the living room. 

Wordlessly, Clark held out a hand to Bruce. Bruce stared before hesitantly taking his hand, and Clark brought Bruce close to his body. 

Together they swayed to the slow beat of the song, the music reverberating in the empty house. Bruce felt comforted by the warmth emanating from his core and rested his head on Clark’s shoulder. In his arms, he felt complete. 

“Why is it that I don’t know you, but I feel like I do,” Bruce murmured. He didn’t think he had spoken loud enough for the other man to hear, but Clark stopped at his words. He pulled back enough to look into his eyes. 

“Are you coming onto me, Bruce?” he asked finally in a low voice. His voice was teasing but his eyes were anything but.

“N-no,” he stammered, and took an involuntary step back, overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes. The back of his legs hit the coffee table and was momentarily caught off-balance, but was steadied by Clark’s firm hands on his back. 

Clark brought his face close to Bruce's, and Bruce closed his eyes, breathless, anticipating the soft brush on his lips. 

The kiss never came. Bruce opened his eyes gingerly and looked questioningly at Clark. Clark’s expression looked pained. 

“I...shouldn't.” Clark said, his voice sounding strained. It looked like he was using the entirety of his strength to pull away from Bruce. 

“My god, what am I doing. I should go.” He muttered to himself, “What was I thinking, I never should have come-” 

Bruce shut him up with a kiss. It was the only thing he could think of on the spot to make him stay, and hoped he could convey his desperate need through the action. 

For a second Clark froze, but then he responded (thank god, Bruce thought), and deepened the kiss. 

Thank god. 


End file.
